


A Study in Violet

by Cornerofmadness



Series: Freedom [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Erotic Electrostimulation, F/M, Light BDSM, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-14 23:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm is finally ready and able to try to relax but fate has other plans.





	A Study in Violet

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** \- I don’t own the characters. Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver do.
> 
> **Author’s Note** – This was written for whumptober for the prompt: humiliation. It was inspired by Malcolm’s comment in _All Saints and Sadists_ about being a masochist. It was interesting to speculate on how deep that goes and it follows up on the ficlet _Starting Over_.

X X X

He pressed his knees into the memory foam cushion. A sharp, almost purring, noise echoed from his throat as sparks of electricity danced across the skin of his shoulder. Malcolm rocked forward, his movements hampered by the spare set of restraints he used for his bed. He wasn’t ready to trust Grace with the electrified cuffs yet.

In truth, he had to summon all of his courage to buzz Grace into his home today. She knew Lily somehow and came highly recommended by her. They had talked, honestly just talked, for hours over several days before he could get to this step. He hadn’t wanted to text her and get to know Grace that way. One things he learned in the FBI was never leave a ‘paper’ trail. The first meeting had been at a place of her choosing to talk some more before she agreed to take him on as a client. Malcolm liked her caution. He could be anyone, willing to do anything, after all. He could be his _father._

This was his fist time with Grace as a client. He’d prepared the scene because he still hadn’t summoned up the ability to trust her entirely so he needed to keep some control. However, she was off to a good start. He’d told Grace to show up dressed to blend into his neighborhood and she turned up on his doorstep in soft cargo pants and a Halestorm T-shirt carrying nothing but a Marauders Map bag. Ainsley had so loved Harry Potter and that thought had nearly put him out of the mood.

Malcolm had been waiting for her with the shackles already suspended from the ceiling. During a previous visit, his sharp-eyed mother had spotted the D-ring in the support beam and he told her it was for Sunshine’s cage. She hated his bird but when had she liked any of his pets?

Malcolm wore soft cargo pants of his own. He didn’t wear them often. His suits were his armor. He felt more relaxed in them. Greeting Grace in nothing but his comfy clothes took courage; being vulnerable always did. He’d laid out the cushion, which was really a flat dog bed and he’d put out an actual violet ray machine, an antique from the 20s not really capable of putting out a harmful charge. If she did well, he’d bring out his Zeus violet wand and let her graduate up to the more intense wand heads. He hoped she’d pass muster because he longed to feel the sharper hit of the more powerful attachments. In addition to his weapons collection, he had a small but carefully selected, very well hidden, collection of vintage electric-play sex toys. He had others, like the Zeus, as well, which were modern and saw far more use.

Grace wielded the violet wand with the hand of an artist, exciting his skin, making him shiver in anticipation. Malcolm’s problems floated away as his brain swam in the potent synergistic mix of endorphins and oxytocin. The only thing in his mind was the expectancy for the kiss of the wand and the flutter it would send rushing through his body. His nerves sang a symphony; no it was more riotous, chaotic. It was 1920s jazz.

He groaned around the silk tie gag in his mouth as she slowly dragged the wand along his biceps. He twisted on the pillow, the restrains tugging him back into position. He didn’t mind the silk. It alleviated him of his incessant need to fill every silence. He preferred it to a ball or bit gag, which tasted too much like his bite guard, like his nightmares.

Grace’s deft hand with the wand aroused his spirits, freeing him from worry. Hell, she and the violet wand just plain aroused him. He was at full mast, his hips squirming. If he came, well that would just be the icing on a delicious cake. He hadn’t booked his session with that in mind. He’d wanted to relax, to find relief from the Mobius strip of horror playing in his head and submitting freed him to do that. He was tired of trying to be always in control, of taking care of others. This was his moment to have someone take care of him. Maybe he’d sleep after this. He hoped so.

Grace circled his arm just below the cuff and he whimpered, delighted; so close to the edge at the precipice of letting go and soaring.

“Malcolm! You’re not answering your phone again. You and I _have_ to talk.”

Everything moved in slow motion as if he were high again. Grace stepped away from him, wide eyed, staring down the intruder. He glanced over his shoulder, twisting on the restraints, not wanting to face his mother but unable to look away.

For her part, standing there in her Christian Louboutin heels and immaculate dress, his mother couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sight of her son on his knees in his bondage gear.  
She recovered faster than he did. “Oh Malcolm.”

With that exasperated utterance, she turned and clicked her way out of his home.

“Well, that was awkward,” Grace said.

_No, embarrassing, utterly **humiliating,**_ he thought bitterly, sagging in the restraints. _and probably record setting for world’s fastest boner killer. _

“Do you want to try again or…” Grace pulled a dubious face.

He wagged his head and she set the wand back next to its box so she could undo the restraints. He tore the silk gag free. “I’m completely out of the head space after _that_.”

“Rich older lover?” Grace hazarded a guess, looking as if she were contemplating the chances of Jessica’s return with a weapon.

“My mother,” he muttered.

“Oh, that’s so much worse.” Grace steadied him, letting him maneuver so he was off his knees.

Malcolm stretched out half on the floor and half on the pillow. At least Mother hadn’t brought along Ainsley. “You have no idea.”

“I know you locked that door. I guess she has a key.” Grace broke down the violet ray wand carefully tucking it back into the box. 

“She always finds a way to get one.” He sighed heavily. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. This is hardly the weirdest thing to happen to me and Mom gets what she deserves barging in, if that’s not to rude of me.”

He snorted. “I’m going to be hearing about this forever or never. I’m not sure which.”

“Would you like a hand up or do you need to relax and recover?” Grace stood over him.

He put out a hand and she helped him to his feet with a firm grip. Grace steadied him again as he bobbled, a little light headed.

“Since you didn’t get your full time in today, I’ll knock the price in half,” Grace offered.

Malcolm shook his head. “No, that’s not fair to you.”

“Let’s call it a discount on your next session, that is if you want me back.” She smiled.

“The question is would you still want to work with me?” His face burned hot.

“I do. I know we’re just getting to know each other but I think this went pretty well considering.”

“It did. Lily’s right. You’re exactly what I’m looking for. I do want to do this again.” God he needed it right now but he’d never reclaim that glorious freed head space, not with the memory of his mother seeing him like that still burning bright – no pun intended – in his mind.

“Excellent.”

They scheduled a time and he set about undoing the scene while Sunshine fluttered around the apartment. He had everything hidden away and he’d sat down with some Laphroaig quarter cask, more than what was necessary in his glass. Before he could relax, someone buzzed his door. Malcolm got up and reluctantly let Ainsley in. No doubt she’d been sent by their mother and now his humiliation was complete, especially catching sight of her smirk when he opened the door.

“And I thought it was bad when Mom caught my man dressed in nothing but a towel.” Ainsley bounced on his couch and stole his scotch. She took a sip, made a face and returned it to the table. “You’d think she’d learn by now.”

“Obviously not. Why are you here, Ainsley?” He pouted, sitting next to her. He rescued his scotch before she decided on a second taste.

“Mom wanted me to be sure that blue-haired woman you were with was here because whatever terrifying thing you were doing was consensual and some criminal didn’t have you tied up.” 

He made a face. “In that scenario, I guess I’m glad she sent you and not Gil.”

Ainsley giggled. “Oh God! Can you imagine? Wait, does he even know you…whatever you want to call this?”

“I’d prefer to not label it and no, he doesn’t. It’s _private_.” Malcolm sighed, and slugged back some of the Laphroaig. “Or at least it was until Mother came blundering in and is apparently telling the world.”

“Not the world, just me.” Ainsley cocked up an eyebrow. “Can you really imagine her telling anyone else?”

“No, I suppose not. I do dread the next time I have to look her in the eye and talk to her though.”

Ainsley shrugged. “Why? I didn’t let it get to me _much_ when she came in and caught me. Of course you could get back at her you know.”

“Oh?” He took another sip of the smoky scotch.

“Mom has that big charity dinner party coming up. You should bring Ms. Blue-Hair with you, introduce her to everyone.” Ainsley beamed.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Ainsley.”

“So? Tell every one of those stuffed shirts she’s your dominatrix and see what happens. It would be a riot and the best part is maybe Mom will stop inviting you to these things.”

Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose even as he chuckled. “Oh, the images that conjures. Not happening but it would be what Mother deserves for just barging in all the time.”

“So, can’t you find a girlfriend who does this for you? I’m assuming you pay for this service.”

He looked at her sharply. “I’m _ not_ talking about this with you. You don’t see me asking about _your_ sex life.”

“As if I’d tell a profiler,” Ainsley sniffed.

“And I don’t want to see a news article about sexual submissives featuring me.”

“Fair point.” Ainsley slapped his knee and stood. “I’ll tell Mom you’re not being axe-murdered by some weird woman, and you can go back to sulking like you so obviously want to.”

He curled his lip at her.

“You know for embarrassment this might even top the time me and Shelby Higgins walked in on you when you forgot to lock the bathroom door when you were fourteen.” Ainsley beamed.

Malcolm stared, gaping. “That was horrible.”

“Tell me about it. Take care of yourself, brother.” Ainsley leaned over and kissed his cheek. 

“Why would you bring that up?” he moaned.

“Because it was funny. Besides, what else is family for?”

Ainsley left on that note, one that probably shouldn’t be struck in a family like theirs. And with that adolescent mistake playing in his head along with Mother’s invasion today, Malcolm felt sure his humiliation was complete.


End file.
